


That Makes No Sense as a System

by Honorable_mention



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: BAMF Klaus Hargreeves, Cults, F/F, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, No Incest, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Personal Growth, Possession, Sober Klaus Hargreeves, The Commission, actual character arcs!, i have no better way to describe it, i just rewrote season two because they should have done more with the characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25722811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honorable_mention/pseuds/Honorable_mention
Summary: For Klaus Hargreeves there was nothing more terrifying than sobriety. Overdosing? He’d done it in his sleep. Literally. Death? Been there done that. He could fight God and her little bike any day.But sobriety sent shivers down his spine.--In which Klaus uses his powers during Season Two, Allison finds her voice, and Diego spends a bit more time at the Commission
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Dave/Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Luther Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Luther Hargreeves, Raymond Chestnut & Klaus Hargreeves, Raymond Chestnut/Allison Hargreeves, Vanya Hargreeves/Sissy
Comments: 34
Kudos: 438





	1. Just Like Superman

For Klaus Hargreeves there was nothing more terrifying than sobriety. Overdosing? He’d done it in his sleep. Literally. Death? Been there done that. He could fight God and her little bike any day. 

But sobriety sent shivers down his spine.

It wasn’t just the cravings and the itching and the twinge in his chest. No, it was the terrifying corpses of the dead moaning at him. That was enough to give anyone the heebie-jeebies, and thus Klaus had never had the motivation to find out the extent of his powers. Sobriety was too big of a hurtle. 

But then he’d met Dave, and then Dave had died, and suddenly sobriety was worth it again. Anything to see the man he loved one more time, to finally, properly say goodbye. 

Of course he was now stuck in 1960, back when Dave was a teenager and it would be pretty creepy to ask him out. But he was already sober, and traveling back about seventy years twice within a two week period was enough to make anyone question their life choices.

So he’d woken up in 1960 wearing almost veteran-like clothes and stumbling around, and little old Edie Todd had tried to help him. Presumably she thought he was either just returning from Vietnam, though he wasn't sure if that war had started yet, or a very unfortunate veteran of Korea because she took him home, put him in almost sixties-appropriate clothes and told him about her dear old departed husband Dirk.

Dirk was a good man, she said, always kind to the unfortunate. She’d met him when they went to school together and she’d always loved his grey eyes. He was an honorable man, though sometimes he’d take it too far, like when he volunteered for the army during World War II. Fifty-five but spry. He was smart and promised her he’d be safe.

She shook her head. That man always had to be a hero. When the letter came in the mail she was almost expecting it, but that didn’t make the pain any less severe.

She pulled the letter out of a drawer in her spacious living room. Here, she said, holding it out. I’ve kept it all these years. You can still see my tearmarks in the corner.

Klaus had originally planned to just grin and bear it, to accept the woman’s burden in exchange for food and a warm bed. He’d move out the next day or the one after that, promise to keep in touch, drift the way he had in his own time period.

But then he’d seen a man hovering behind Edie. The man looked shocked to see Klaus sitting there and looking back at him. Those grey eyes were still clear as a ghost.

Klaus had summoned Ben before. Once had even been on purpose. And he was even more sober now than he had been before, albeit by only one day. 

It wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t summon Dirk. But if he could Klaus might be able to test his powers in a way that didn’t terrify anyone more than it had to.

Dirk didn’t even look that strange. He had a gaping bullet hole in his shoulder, but his face and the silhouette of his body were the same. That was about as much as you could ask of a ghost. It just wasn’t in their nature to look appealing to humans. 

Klaus steadied himself and stood up. He wasn’t sure what position was best to summon ghosts in, but he thought that standing up would be a good place to start. Looking back he tried to copy the way Allison stood when she rumored someone.

Blue light began to crawl around his hand. This was more exhausting than he thought it would be. If he had to be sober couldn’t his powers at least be easy?

“Klaus, honey, what’s happening?” Edie said. She stood up from her chair but waited a foot away from him “Do you need help?”

“No, but could you turn around? There’s just this, uh-”

She turned her head and gasped. Dirk was surrounded by blue light, but the table behind him was no longer visible.

The couple embraced for a moment and he whispered something in her ear. Sweat raced down Klaus’s temple as he tried to hold onto Dirk for a moment longer but soon he disappeared from Edie’s eyes. He was still there, of course, but only Ben and Klaus could see him now.

“That was impressive, I’m not going to lie,” Ben said from the position he’d found on the top of a table.

“I’m always impressive, Ben.”

“But not like that.” Ben walked across the room. “That was incredible. And it was only the beginning. Imagine what you’ll be able to do if you stay sober.”

Edie seemed preoccupied with stumbling through the air where Dirk had once been. “You always have such a stick up your ass about the drugs, all Klaus, don’t do ecstasy and Klaus, don’t drink another margarita you’ve already had seven. I’m fine, really. And I don’t need to stay sober anymore. I’m not even going to be able to contact Dave.”

“Well I’m sure Dave would still want you to stay sober.”

“Ben, everyone was doing drugs in the war.” He mouthed the word everything to drive home his point.

A voice brought him back to the land of the mostly living. “Klaus?” Edie asked. Her voice was as strong as the last leaf in fall. It trembled and wavered in that single syllable.

“Yeah?”

“Was that really my husband? Was that really Dirk?”

“It was. Didn’t you know?” He waved his hands. “I’ve got superpowers.”

“Just like Superman,” Ben murmured.

“Just like Superman,” Klaus said, sending the still distraught Edie a wink.

“So you could bring him back again? You could bring anyone back?” Klaus thought for a moment and nodded. The smile that spread across her face was amazing. He didn’t want to disappoint her. Maybe this was how Luther and Diego felt about dad, without all the years of abuse.

So that’s exactly what Klaus did. He brought people in and he brought people back.

Over the next two months he got used to living in Edie’s house, with it’s large windows and open fields. He could walk back there with Ben and test out his different abilities without making a fool of himself in front of his host. 

It was in those fields that they first discovered that Ben could possess him. Which had been, well, weird.

Ben was annoying Klaus, going on about duty and morals and whatever, and Klaus knew how much his brother hated it when he walked through him. So of course he’d had to to do. 

Only that time he got stuck. After a few panicked moments he’d gotten unstuck, but in those moments Klaus had realized he needed to figure this whole possession thing out before it became a major issue.

They’d established a few ground rules. Nothing sexual, Ben had to leave as soon as Klaus asked him, he always had to ask permission, no talking to people outside of the one’s Klaus had already approved.

It had gone well for a few months until they realized that Klaus was strong enough to conjure Ben at all times and the possession issue became a bit irrelevant. Ben couldn’t touch things, no, but after years of being stuck with Klaus being able to talk to whoever he wanted was enough.

And things went well. Edie brought her friends and Klaus summoned their wives and husbands and sons and cousins. He brought back grandparents and teachers and neighbors, even a few cats and dogs. 

Friends brought friends brought friends and soon the mansion was overrun with people. They slept in hallways and tattooed their hands. All of them were happy, the pain of loss gone. It was beautiful.

Edie smiled on her deathbed and Klaus promised to bring her back as soon as he could. He kissed her hand when she was gone. That night he let her give her own eulogy.

One day a whisper ripped through his flock that one of the women from his stories, Allison Hargreeves, was there in Dallas with them. She’d married a man named Raymond they said, and she was working in a hair salon.

So she’d created a life for herself, just like he had. She was adjusting. Learning to live in this new world with these new powers, though truthfully hers had been a part of her life for much longer than his had.

Things really had been looking up for Klaus before he had to flee. It had all happened so suddenly, but he had no other option. He’d taken William’s Thunderbird, with the bright red finish and the new tires, and driven into the city as fast as he could go. Things weren’t supposed to end this way.

At least he’d finally learned how to use his powers. Sobriety may have been terrifying, but damn if it didn’t make Klaus feel like a badass.


	2. I Think I Love You

Raymond Chestnut has never met anyone as persuasive as Allison. She might not have been able to speak, but she could write anything down and make you believe it. Didn’t matter who you were or what you believed, her words always came out as the Gospel.

No one quite remembered where she came from, though that might have been because she never said anything. All Odessa would say was that one night Allison had shown up in a strange leather jacket and she couldn’t help but offer her a job nearly on the spot. 

Allison had swept the floors of the salon for a few weeks before she’d attended her first meeting. She’d sat there, listening intently, occasionally scribbling notes for the group on one topic or another. As he read her words he was enamored.

Odessa said that Allison didn’t do much outside of the meetings and work. She read a bit, listened to music, but other than that it was about it. Other than, of course, pulling out that little piece of paper.

It was crumpled up and may have, in a past life, been an index card. It was yellowed in the edges and she would pull it out every spare moment she got before stuffing it back into her closest pocket. Raymond wasn’t quite sure what it said and reckoned it might be rude to ask. Something about the way she held it made it seem deeply personal.

It was her defining feature, though, that piece of paper.

Not that Raymond didn’t notice her other features. How could he not? She was no less than gorgeous but her mind was the truly stunning thing about her. He’d never before in his life met someone who could write as good of a flyer or an editorial as she could.

The first piece she wrote for their organization had white store owners lining up at the salon to apologize. He’d never seen anything like it before in his life, not once. These white men with ruddy cheeks who screamed slurs at him when they realized he was fighting for his own rights were waiting at the door to tell him they regretted their actions. All the members of their group could have sworn Allison never even wrote down where they were based to bring these heaping piles of regret.

It was only natural, of course, that he asked Allison to join him for dinner. Throughout the evening she passed notes to him while he chatted. She might not have a voice, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t wholly captivating.

But every time he turned away he would look back to see that note in her hands, her eyes scanning across it.

The next morning he came and picked her up from Odessa’s and they went on a walk through the park. Birds chirped as Raymond realized he could go on a thousand more dates with her and never get bored.

On their fifth date she passed him a note. On it she’d written “I think I love you”. He smiled as he read it.

After they’d been dating for a few months Raymond finally got up the nerve to ask Allison about the slip paper. He knew he wanted to marry her one day, so he should at least know this about her.

She ran it between her fingers for a moment before handing it to him. He held it in his hands, squinted to read the looping cursive handwriting.

I heard a rumor that I could speak.

“Does this help with your,” he gestured at his throat, “condition?”

“Yeah,” she croaked out, “it does.”

He’d never heard her voice before.  
  


After being married to Allison for a year Ray was more sure than ever that he loved her. Every morning he got to wake up next to her and every night he got to fall asleep under the moonlight at her side. There was no one he would rather spend his life with.

In a year of marriage he had also learned that Allison had a few quirks. It was mostly the comments she made in her sleep or in the early morning, pre-coffee. Something about superheroes and umbrellas. It was hard to follow.

She could speak countless languages, though sometimes she’d say a phrase that confused everyone else. One time, after she did that, he could have sworn he heard her whispering that the phrase wasn’t slang yet.

His wife was also skilled at combat. To a strange degree. But certain things he thought better than to question. Maybe it had something to do with the siblings she always talked about but no one ever met. She’d never been close with them, she said, wasn’t even sure where they were. But she missed them, in her own way.

Raymond certainly wasn’t expecting to find anyone who knew his wife when he got home that afternoon.

The man was, well, scruffy. He had long hair and a regrettable beard, and his clothes were a strange mix of dark fabric, hippy cuts, and army paraphernalia. But the most distinguishing things about him were the tattoos on his palms, one on each hand. Hello and Good-bye.

He was sitting on the Chestnuts’ couch next to a disgruntled Asian man also dressed in unusual apparel who Raymond could have sworn had a blue glow about him. This man whispered something to the other one about the whole thing being a bad idea.

“Raymond!” The man with the tattoos said before wrapping him in a hug, completely ignoring the man next to him. “I’ve heard so much about you. I’ve got to meet you, the man who married my sister.”

“You’re Allison’s brother?”

“The one and only.” He did a little twirl while the slightly-blue man rolled his eyes. “Fine, the best of five. Can’t you see the family connection?”

So that’s where Raymond recognized him from. The man looked familiar but Raymond couldn’t place it. It must have been the family thing, but that still didn’t seem quite right.

The front door knob creaked as Allison walked inside, the wind rustling the papers on the kitchen table. He could hear her kick her shoes off as she walked in.

Without warning she ran across the carpet and enveloped the man on the couch in a hug.

“What am I, chopped liver?” The tattooed man said.

“Oh come on Klaus, get over here.” She beckoned the man over to join in the hug. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you guys. How long have you been here?”

“At your house? About thirty minutes.”

“I meant here, you know, here in Dallas.”

“Three years. Sorry we didn’t find you earlier, we were a bit, uh, preoccupied.”

“It’s fine. I’m so glad to see you. And Ben!” She let go and turned to take in the slightly-blue man, who Raymond assumed must have been Ben. “It’s been so long.” She rubbed her hands. “I thought you were gone forever. How are you even here?”

“I’m sober. Surprise!” The tattooed man rubbed the back of his neck when he said it. It was a strange way of saying something like that, as if he didn’t expect Allison to believe him. 

Raymond felt he was missing some crucial element of the conversation, something that would pull it all back together.

“Congratulations to both of you!” Allison was beaming as she spoke. Suddenly she seemed to remember that Raymond was there. She turned to him and pointed at the men. “You haven’t met them before, have you?”

“I just met him,” Raymond said, pointing at the man with the tattoos, “but he didn’t tell me his name.”

“That’s Klaus,” Allison told him, “and that’s Ben. My brothers.” She seemed to sense his confusion because she nodded her head towards Ben and added that he was adopted.

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

“The same to you. But let me just say, Raymond, your family barbecues are about to get a lot more interesting,” Klaus said. Ben nodded his agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m enjoying this fic so much! I’m writing another longfic for a different fandom but I keep getting stuck, so it’s great to have something I can work on when I’m frustrated.
> 
> I still haven’t quite decided how much of Five, Luther, and Vanya’s stories I’m going to show, as their pretty close to canon. What do y’all think? Should I only include the canon divergence, or should I write a couple closer to canon scenes?


	3. No Spoilers

Five could have sworn he just watched his brother kill Hazel. One minute they’d been sitting on a bench, he and Hazel, talking about the end of the world, when the next thing he knew there were bullets raining down on them, a broken briefcase in his hands, and undeveloped film in his pocket.

He was expecting the Commission to show up. No one can travel back nearly sixty years and not have to give an explanation, but Five thought he’d have longer. An hour or two at least. 

He certainly wasn’t expecting to see his brother behind the trigger of the Commission’s gun.

But it was unmistakably Diego. His hair was a bit longer and he’d ditched the leather vigilante getup for a pressed suit, but it was the same person. The scar on his cheek was the cherry on top Five needed to be certain. That smug assassin was his smug almost-serial killer brother.

“Five?” Diego asked, lowering the smoking gun. Hazel’s lifeless body slumped over and Five scrambled off the bench.

“What the hell Diego? Why would you kill Hazel?”

“It’s my job, Five, you know that.” Diego put the gun away and checked his watch. “It’s really a conflict of interest that I’m here with you. I thought it was just going to be him.” He pointed at the dead body. “ I know I shouldn’t tell you this, but you’ve got to be careful. They’ll send someone else after you soon. After us I guess.”

“So there’s still a version of you here who’s not, well,” Five gestured to Diego’s suit, but he wasn’t quite sure how to explain the change in his brother. In all his many years he’d never seen anything quite like Diego in a suit, presumably in an actual job.

“You’ll see. No spoilers.” Diego pulled out a briefcase and, before Five could stop him, he was encircled in blue and pulled out of time.

  
  


Elliot was hilarious only in the fact that he found himself to be important. Yes he offered some useful information and services, but the paranoia was a bit much. He was a lonely divorcé who lived by himself in the remains of his at least semi-failed business. The shadow government couldn’t give less of a shit about him.

But that disinterest wasn’t mutual, so if anyone knew where to find Five’s family it would be Eliot.

His tack board was covered in photos and news clippings. Almost none of them were useful but Five still picked each one apart word for word, shape by shape. He learned that each of his family members had fallen into the same alley but months or years apart. By this point they could have gotten anywhere but, knowing them, they were probably all still hanging around Texas. 

At first Five had thought to go after Luther. That big hunk of a man was probably too stupid to have anything going on in his life. It would be nice to have some muscle too, someone to throw out the trash and intimidate whoever caused the new end of the world.

But, at some point, the Diego situation would have to be addressed. His brother had killed Hazel. He worked for the Commission. Those slight details couldn’t be ignored.

He tore the thin newspaper headline off the board and held it in his hands. Diego had managed to get himself arrested for threatening Lee Harvey Oswald with knives. God his family was predictable. He made a note to make sure Klaus was still alive and not in some small Texas morgue after an overdose.

He jumped to the asylum Diego was in with a flash of blue and waited outside the door for a moment. These kinds of places let in visitors, right? He really should have done his research ahead of time.

Eventually he slapped on his sweetest smile and walked inside.

“Hello,” he said to the receptionist, “I’m here to visit my brother.”

“Are your parents here with you?” She replied.

“No, they told me to come see him alone. They feel weird about the whole thing.” He tried to look bashful. That always pulled at people’s heartstrings.

The receptionist gave him a pitying look. “I’ll see what I can do. What’s your brother’s name?”

“Diego. Diego Hargreeves.”

“Hargreeves is your brother?” She raised an eyebrow at Five. “He doesn’t look like you. And he’s not nearly as nice as you are.”

Five shrugged. “We’re adopted.”

  
  


So the Diego in that hospital was definitely still his Diego, the younger ones Stubborn, stupid, headstrong. Planning an escape. No connection to the man from the commission he had met earlier.

Five wasn’t surprised when Diego showed up at Eliot’s apartment later that afternoon. It hadn’t taken long to establish that it wasn’t Commission Diego there, and once he was in Five was reminded why he didn’t find his brother’s escape to be a surprise. What surprised him was the woman that his brother had escaped with.

Her name was Lila and she seemed incredibly familiar. He could have sworn he’d met her before. Something about her face or her posture gave him deja vu. Even more than usual, and that was coming from someone who’d taken a several decades long break from the rest of the world.

No matter. He’d have time for it later, after they prevented the Apocalypse. For the second time.

In the meantime, though, Five had a moment with his brother.

“Just to confirm, what do you know about the Commission?” He asked. His back was straight against the chair but his little brother was laid out on the sofa, playing with a knife.

“You used to work there, they tried to kill us. Can you stop asking me now?” Diego threw the knife up and caught it as it fell down. Up and down, up and down.

“I’ll stop, I just needed to make sure my timelines were right.”

“Sure,” Diego said but he seemed skeptical. Up and down, up and down. “You know it was a real asshole move stranding us in the sixties. I guess Luther’s fine but all the rest of us. Man. Asshole move.”

“Oh I’m sorry, I have complete control of what I’m doing. This was my plan all along.”

“I’m just saying. I get here and all the white people are telling me to go to the Mexican part of town even though I’m from here, and then I go over there and they all make fun of my Spanish.”

“But you were always good at languages, right?” Five was still impressed by the time Diego had picked up Russian in less than a year when they were eleven.

“Yeah, from a textbook. Real language is a whole other beast, one I was not prepared to fight.”

“Well next time I’m sending us wildly through space and time to prevent our violent and gruesome deaths I’ll keep the racial politics of the era in mind,” Five said. His brother rolled his eyes and kept fiddling with his knife.

“Whatever. At least I get to stop Kennedy’s assasination now that we’re here.”

“Sure,” Five said. He watched his brother and, not for the first time, thought that maybe he wasn’t as bad as he liked to tell himself. He was close, of course, to being the worst, but he wasn’t quite there yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five and Diego! My B-plot has arrived, get ready for the C-plot next update


	4. Ben & Guildenstern Are Dead

Being at Allison’s house was strange. In a good way, but strange nonetheless. He hadn’t seen her in so long he’d almost forgotten how nice it was to be next to his siblings of the not-Ben variety.

As kids he and Allison had been close. Back in his era, before he’d gotten sober, he liked to tell Diego that he was the only one in the family with a normal relationship to his siblings. Sure he was high off his ass most of the time, but at least his brothers and sisters were his brothers and sisters and not whatever the rest of them were to each other. He didn’t like to think about it too much. Gross.

That first night at Allison’s house, while Raymond our their dinner in the oven, Klaus and his sister did their makeup together. 

He still remembered the first time they’d done it. They must have been nine or ten, still small but shooting up like bamboo. Allison had spent weeks convincing Mom to convince dad to get her some eyeshadow. She’d finally gotten it, a cheap thing in gaudy colors, and Klaus had waited by her door. His sister had beckoned him in and they’d talked and played with different looks for hours. Their skills were shit, of course, but that wasn’t why they did it.

It was nice to have this semblance of normalcy. Klaus appreciated everything Ben did for him, but that was different. Growing up with seven siblings and then suddenly dropping to one in an afternoon was a big shift, especially when that one sibling was only corporeal eighty percent of the time.

Dinner that night was a casserole one of Allison’s friends had brought over. Apparently they had some kind of complicated meal sharing system that Klaus really didn’t care enough to understand.

“So, Klaus, what do you do for a living?” Raymond asked. Allison’s husband seemed nice enough, definitely a step up from Patrick. 

When Claire was born Klaus had gone to visit his sister. He wanted to meet his niece, the first of hopefully very few. Allison had paid for his last stint in rehab and, along with his belongings, she’d left him a note. Klaus didn’t keep up with the cultural happenings but apparently his sister had gotten married. Claire hadn’t been born too long after.

He’d hitchhiked across the country for two weeks to get to California. His sister had been so excited to see him. Claire has been so sweet. And then the itch had hit Klaus and he’d stumbled in the door with new tracks on his inner elbow. He still remembered the tears in his sister’s eyes as she told him to leave. Patrick had smiled but hidden it behind his hand.

“Oh, you know, I drift between jobs,” Klaus replied, taking a bite of the casserole on his plate. He thought it might have been green beans but he couldn’t tell. No matter what it was it wasn’t great. The sixties weren’t exactly the pinnacle of cuisine.

“Well what about you?” Raymond asked, pointing towards Ben with his fork.

“Oh he’s dead,” Klaus said, “just like Rosencratz and Guildenstern.” He paused for a moment. “Has that play come out yet?” 

“What?”

“Very funny Klaus,” Ben said while staring daggers at him across the table.

“I’m just kidding of course. But Ben’s job is so boring he might as well be dead.”

His brother sighed. “I’m a financial advisor.” It wasn’t a lie, not really. Ben handled the money and expenses for Klaus’s group. No matter what they might want, food and power weren’t free.

“Well it’s good to see you’ve found a job,” Allison said. “How long do you think y’all will be staying with you?”

“How long until we aren’t welcome?” Klaus asked.

“We’ll see how stupid you act.” She smiled at them, her eyes staying on Ben. “It’s good to have you back.”

Allison had been the first one to talk to Klaus about the drugs. Back then it had mostly been alcohol, a little weed and a handful of pills every so often. It was the week after their fifteenth birthday and Klaus wasn’t exactly suicidal, just getting there.

A timid knock rang from his doorframe and Klaus mumbled his consent for the person to come in.

“Klaus?” Allison whispered as she stepped into the door. He could hear her footsteps but he couldn’t bring himself to move from his stop on the bed. A bottle of whiskey was clutched in his hands and his sheets were soaking from sweat

“What do you want?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” The bed tipped as she sat down. 

“I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

“I’m worried about you though Klaus. You’re my brother, you can talk to me.”

“No I can’t. You wouldn’t get it.” He flopped over to shove his face into his pillow. Some of the bottle splashed onto the floor.

“Why not?” Her hand rested on his shoulder. He wanted to flinch away but didn’t.

He brought his head up for the pillow to talk. “Cause I need this,” he swung the bottle in his hand, “and you don’t get it. You all want to pity me or resent me or whatever.”

“I don’t pity you,” she said. Her voice was gentle, lulling and melodic. They had spent hours together, Allison honing her voice while he sat in awe. 

“Then piss off.” He should have felt bad about saying that but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Okay. But if you ever need anyone I’ll be here for you. I care about you. We all do.”

Klaus sat on the back porch with Raymond. They’d decided to let Ben and Allison have a moment to catch up. 

The late Autumn air in Dallas was warm and dry, so much nicer than the wet heat of Vietnam. That had been suffocating while this was just what it promised to be. Atmosphere. 

Klaus tried not to think about Vietnam if he could help it. Tried not to think about Dave. 

His fingers wrapped around the dog tags at his neck. The metal was cool to the touch and Klaus used it to ground himself. Stop thinking about the war, stop thinking about Dave, stop thinking about the guns and the dead and the blood. Especially not the blood.

“So you’re a veteran?” Raymond asked, eyes on the dog tags in Klaus’s finger. 

“Yeah. Korea.” Klaus looked over at Raymond, trying to gauge his reaction. Talking about the war freaked people out sometimes, made them deeply uncomfortable. No one wanted to talk about skin slipping off the dead over dinner.

“My brother fought too.”

“He did?” 

“Yeah.” Raymond’s hand was shaking a bit. “God I wish I had a cigarette. But I promised Allison I’d stop. She was adamant about it.”

“And she’d be disappointed if she found out you kept doing it?” Raymond nodded. “Yeah, I get the feeling. You should have seen me before. I used to be into all that stuff, the real hard stuff. And Allison and Ben would just get so sad whenever they saw me doing it. I mean I regret nothing, but still.”

“No offense, but I definitely pegged you as a former addict.”

“Thanks, I’m glad I pulled it off,” Klaus said. Raymond smiled and told him he needed to go inside and make a few calls before everyone went to sleep.

Klaus sat in the hot Texas night listening to the crickets and cicadas chirping and clicking. Suddenly a familiar pale face popped up out of the bushes.

“Keechie? What are you doing here?” Klaus looked around frantically but there was no one else there with them.

“I had to find you Prophet. You can’t leave us like that. We need you.” Keechie’s voice was filled with that desperate reverence that Klaus despised.

“Keechie, I’m on vacation. Can you just leave me alone? I don’t want to talk to you after what happened.” 

“But Prophet, you told me to do it.”

“No I didn’t! Why would I do that? Now can you please just leave me alone?”

The door to the back porch rattled and Keechie ran away. Klaus sighed and leaned back in his chair as Raymond returned.

“So what embarrassing stories can you tell me about Allison?” Raymond asked with a smile.

“Where should I start? There’s so many, and I’m sure she’ll be excited for me to tell you every single one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been busy with school starting, but I’m still planning to update this fic three or four times a week. 
> 
> Vanya’s gonna show up in the next chapter! I’m really excited to write about Vanya and Sissy


	5. Beyond Her Name

When Vanya woke up all she could remember was her name. 

Some things about herself were easy to pick up on, but still all she had in concrete was her name. She was clearly a woman, probably in her twenties. Her hair was brown and she wasn’t particularly tall nor particularly short. Her balance in heels was atrocious, as Sissy discovered the first time she put her in a pair, and she seemed to have a strange sense of fashion, as evidenced by her fancy white suit.

But other than that? Her memory was foggy at best. Sometimes she’d get scraps of memories but they’d flicker away before she could say anything or write anything down. For all intents and purposes she was in the dark on who she was. All her history was the last month.

But that wasn’t a bad thing. The last month had been incredible.

It had begun when Vanya fell from the sky. She wasn’t actually sure if that’s where she came from, but that was the conclusion she was drawing from her limited data. She had no proof of anything else beyond common sense.

Then she had, according to Sissy, wandered out into the road. Bewildered, she stood like a deer in the headlights as Sissy tried to brake. Unfortunately she wasn’t fast enough and Vanya was sent sprawling headfirst across the ground.

The next thing she remembered she was in a hospital. They patched her up and were immediately concerned by the fact she couldn’t tell them anything about herself beyond her name. Apparently their usual patients weren’t adult amnesiacs. Their best course of action was to deposit her into the hands that had brought her to them in the first place.

Sissy had taken her back home that night, half out of worry and half out to curiosity as she later confided over two glasses of scotch.

Slowly Vanya got used to life on the farm. One day she could feel her whole life spreading like roots into the Texas loam and she knew she was home. Each morning she borrowed some of Carl’s clothes and collected eggs from the chickens. She’d bring them in and make breakfast as everyone else stumbled awake. A routine she could get used to.

In exchange for room and board Vanya had agreed to watch Sissy’s son Harlan. He was sweet though nonverbal. They’d play hide and seek and explore the grounds together, help Sissy with chores and listen to records. It was a nice life, quiet as domestic.

And against her best interests Vanya realized she liked Sissy. More than she was supposed to, more than any woman was supposed to like any other woman.

It was something about the way she held herself, that dignity, that poise. It was her smile, loud and brash during the day, subtle and sweet when they stayed up all night talking from the light of a lantern in the hay of the barn. It was her hair, her eyes, the curves of her body.

Vanya wanted to kiss her, to make love to her, to share all their secrets and their lives with just each other and Harlan.

It was terrifying. It was exhilarating.

Vanya didn’t know much about herself but she knew it was wrong to feel this way. So she stuffed it down where she didn’t have to think about it. Sissy was a dear friend and nothing more. It became her mantra every time they locked eyes, every time they were close enough to touch. Just a friend, a very close friend.

So Vanya was learning about herself. An image began to form in her mind of who she was beyond her name.

Maybe she’d grown up on a farm just like the one she now considered home. Or maybe she was from the city, that place of lights and sounds. That was where Sissy found her. Vanya sensed that she was a quiet person, kept to herself, so she probably didn’t have many siblings. Maybe she was close to her father, maybe to her mother.

It didn’t matter though because she all she needed were her fantasies for the future. The ones with Sissy in them.

So it came as a bit of a surprise to her when Luther showed up.

Luther didn’t match any picture of herself Vanya had created. He was massive, thick as a tree and just as tall. Shoulders broad enough to eat dinner off of and an air she couldn’t read.

As soon as he saw her he started apologizing profusely. She couldn’t get him to slow down long enough to explain what, exactly, he was apologizing for but it seemed important. In between his fumbled words she began to pick apart the information he was telling her.

He was her brother, older brother but not really, whatever that meant. There had been some kind of falling out, some cataclysmic event in their relationship. Apparently he understood if she wanted to keep to herself, but he still wanted to see her and so on and so forth.

“God, Vanya, I can't believe you’re still here. It’s been so long,” he finally said, stopping the waterfall of words that had cascaded from his mouth so inelegantly.

“It’s good to see you too, I think, though I really don’t remember you.” She wished she did. How could this man have been a part of her life? He was so disparate from what she knew of herself.

“Oh, that’s okay, it’s just been so long since I’ve seen any of you.”

“Wait, any?” She had to pause to take it in. “Do you mean there’s more of you? More of us, my siblings?”

“You really don’t remember, do you?” She shook her head. “You have other siblings. It’s me, Allison, Diego, Klaus, Five, Ben.” He counted them on his fingers. “Seven. But Ben’s dead so you can’t meet him. Unless Klaus is sober, which I guess is possible.”

She wasn’t sure what to question first. There was so much to know, but she decided to start simple. “I have a brother named Five? Like the number?”

“Yeah. There’s a lot to explain.” He rubbed the back of his neck as if dreading the conversation. But Vanya was curious, didn’t mind whatever he had to say, no matter how bad. He had nothing to fear from her.

“Can we go inside?” She finally asked.

“Yeah. I need to return this anyway.” He held up Carl’s wallet.

Several hours later she and Sissy were waving Luther off. He climbed into a car that was comically too small for him and began to drive back the long road to central Dallas.

After he left Vanya turned to Sissy, waiting for the other woman to speak. Eventually she did.

“So that’s your brother?”

“Apparently.”

“Is he, well,” she pointed at her head, “all there? I wasn’t eavesdropping but I thought I heard something about superpowers.”

“Yeah, he has these crazy theories. Apparently he thinks we’re from the future.”

“Well that might explain that white suit we found you in.”

“Very funny. But get this: apparently I’ll cause the apocalypse in fifty years.”

Sissy laughed and threw her arm around Vanya who lit up at the touch. “That definitely sounds like something the Vanya I know would do.”

“Definitely,” Vanya said. She watched Sissy as they entered the house. She was so beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me writing from the perspective of a woman? More likely than you might think.
> 
> But seriously, I love Sissy and Vanya’s relationship so much. The contrast between her attraction to Sissy and her attraction to the attention Leonard bestowed on her? Very nice.


	6. Ignoring My Problems

Klaus’s jaw stung and his eyes watered. He watched as Dave stood in the diner, his fist shaking and dusted with blood. Liquid began to pool in Klaus’s nose and he realized it was the blood on Dave’s knuckles. All Klaus could do was flee the scene, run as fast as he could away from the diner. He couldn’t stand to be there a moment longer.

He should have listened to Ben when he had the chance.

“Klaus, I know what you’re thinking. It’s a bad idea,” Ben said. The birds sang above them and the sky was devoid of clouds. At the time the day had seemed too beautiful to heed these warnings.

“Don’t say that about the Prophet, Ben. Whatever he’s planning is divine. I know it.” Keechie smiled at Klaus after he was done speaking.

“Thanks Keechie but I thought we already established the rules. Principal among them being,” Klaus paused, waiting for his disciple to fill in the rest.

“In your words?”

“Yes. In my words.” 

“Well, you said ‘Jesus Christ Keechie please leave me alone’.” Keechie’s adoring face kept gazing up at him as the three of them made their way around the park. It was their morning walk, a routine Klaus had decided to establish that morning after he woke up on Allison’s couch. 

The sun had splayed patterns across his eyes and he’d tumbled off the couch onto the hardwood floor as soon as he was half conscious. From the ground he yawned and dragged himself to a standing position. Like a zombie he’d found the kitchen and grabbed a bowl of leftover casserole before making his way outside, only to find Keechie waiting on the grass. 

“So please go away,” Klaus said, shooing his far too loyal follower away. He hated to do it but it had to be done.

“I’ll leave you and your brother a minute of space. I’ll see you this afternoon!” Keechie called as he began to walk away.

“You can really just go back to the compound Keechie!” Klaus yelled after him.

“You’ve got to do something about him Klaus,” Ben muttered. “You can’t keep ignoring your problems like this.”

“I’m not ignoring my problems. That’s why I’m going to go see Dave.”

And so he had. It was 1963, so Klaus knew Dave was still working at the hardware store. A little place on one of those dusty roads Dallas was almost famous for. Klaus swung the car into park and hopped out.

“Let the record state I still think this is a bad idea,” Ben said, shaking his head.

“Too bad.” The bell above the door jingled when Klaus walked in. Immediately he was hit with the scent of freshly cut wood and shaken paint. 

And then he saw Dave.

Dave, much younger than last time he’d seen him but still recognizable. Dave, waving a customer away and waving Klaus in. Dave, still breathing, no hole in his chest.

“Well what can I help you two with?” Dave asked. His eyes were the same color they’d been in Vietnam, his smile still bright. Less intimate between them now, but how that smile brought back memories.

“We need paint,” Ben said, stepping ahead of Klaus and blocking those precious views of Dave.

“Yeah, we need paint for our bathroom,” Klaus said, pushing his brother aside.

“So what color were you thinking?”

“Oh something nice. Eggshell maybe,” Klaus told him, staring into those gorgeous eyes. 

“Eggshell? I haven’t heard of that color before.”

“It’s an off-white,” Ben added. “A little beige.”

“I don’t have that. But a nice light pink might work? It’s always nice for a washroom.”

“That sounds great,” Klaus said. He watched Dave take one of the paint cans off the shelf and ring it up.

“So how are you two related? Roommates?”

“We’re actually brothers.” Dave looked confused so Klaus clarified that they were adopted. “Our dad was real eccentric, you know the type.” Understanding flooded this small Dave’s face.

Dave waved them goodbye and wished them a wonderful afternoon. And then Klaus was out the door and Dave was out of sight.

Klaus sat in the front seat of the car, the paint can clutched in his hand. He turned to his brother.

“He even smells fantastic,” he whispered, trying to keep those new memories of Dave in his head. Even if they were so short.

“And he also looks like he’s twelve.”

“Shh, Ben, time travel makes it not weird.”

“I don’t think-”

“If Luther can have a crush on our sister I think it’s okay for me to like the first man I ever dated for more than two weeks,” Klaus said. “You don’t understand, the A Shau Valley was a magical place. Messed me up, but I wouldn’t trade my time there.” He shook his head. “But I can’t let him go back.”

“Why not? You would trade your time. Why should he?”

“Because Dave will die if he enlists.” Klaus’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “I can’t let that happen, not again.”

“I don’t think you should mess with the timeline.” Ben, always so cautious.

“Once you’re in charge I’ll start letting you make the decisions.”

Throughout the rest of the day Klaus couldn’t stop thinking about Dave. If he just got the chance to explain what would happen, to get him to understand, maybe he could save his life. Maybe Dave wouldn’t have to die in that horrible pointless war. 

The thought so consumed him that the next day he tracked Dave down to the diner. And that was where Dave, his one and truest love, punched him in the face.

Klaus stumbled, bleeding, out onto the street. He tried to stop the well of tears from bubbling over but it was no use.

“I told you it was a bad idea to talk to him.”

“Not now Ben. Please.” Klaus’s voice broke as he pleaded the last word and sent the shivering car out into the street.

“I’m just saying that I warned you.”

“Of everyone in this family I thought you might have the most sympathy,” Klaus said as they drove, each of their exchanges peppered with the long silences of the road. “I thought you understood why I had to do it. Considering your condition.”

“Low blow Klaus. And where are we going anyway?” Ben asked.

“Exactly where I need to be.” He pulled into the liquor store.

Sobriety was so overrated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason this chapter was hard to write and I don’t know why. It was short and pretty close to canon? My conclusion is just that writing is weird sometimes.


	7. Wait in the Car

Diego wasn’t having a good time. There were many reasons for this, and he could trace almost all of them directly back to his little brother. Five. That little twerp had come back and within a week had caused the world to end and sent them spiraling headfirst into the past. 

You know, Diego would make a bet that Vanya wouldn’t have even destroyed the world were it not for Five. He couldn’t pinpoint how that was Five’s fault, exactly, but he was sure the connection existed.

So here he was, fresh out of the hospital with his pretentious younger brother. Older brother, younger, Diego wasn’t sure what to refer to him as. An asshole, obviously, but beyond that Diego was lost.

And now Five wanted them to find their dad.

“Five, this is a terrible idea. Awful. Top ten worst ideas you’ve ever had,” Diego mumbled from the passenger seat of the car. “And that’s counting the time with the hula hoops when we were ten.”

“I don’t need to hear this. And don’t bring that up, we swore not to talk about it.” Five looked on the verge of saying something else but stopped himself. “Frankly, Diego, your opinion doesn’t matter. I’m the adult here and I’ve already made the decision. We’re gonna find dad.”

“Why? We can stop the Kennedy assassination on our own. We don’t need him.”

Five sighed from his place behind the wheel of the car. Diego still wasn’t sure how his brother had convinced them to let him be the driver, but here they were. 

“What makes you think we need to stop the Kennedy assassination anyway?” Five asked, exasperated. “I mean really. Maybe we have to make sure Kennedy dies to keep the timeline in order. Dad, though, he’ll be able to tell us something. From there we’ll be able to figure it out ourselves.”

“Wait, you’re not trying to keep Kennedy alive?”

“Not if it causes the end of the world.”

“But we’re heroes! It’s what we’re supposed to do!”

“Says who? Dad?”

“Not to break this up or anything,” Lila said, “but I am deeply confused.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Five replied. “If you need to know I’ll let you know. Understand?” She nodded. “Good. In that case we’re here.”

Five parked the car in front of a towering building. The windows were dark, the facade that bleak utilitarian thing that mid-century buildings so often tried to make work. This was the building that they’d found in the phone book, the one that pointed them to their father’s company.

“Wait in the car,” Five instructed Lila. She spread out across the backseat, fiddling with a familiar knife. Diego could have sworn he didn’t give her one of his, but there it was in her hands. As they walked away she gave him a little salute.

The doors were darkened and emblazoned with an achingly familiar crest: the umbrella of Diego’s childhood.

He could do this. He could face his dad.

Diego sat flinching on the sofa as Lila scrubbed antiseptic into his stab wound. The one his dad gave him.

“Hey,” Lila said as she pushed the cotton ball into his side, “at least it could have been worse.”

“I’m sorry, do you have a lot of experience being stabbed by your dad? Because it isn’t fun. That I can attest to.”

She shrugged and poured out more antiseptic, the bottle giving a heaving glug as it poured. “Close enough.”

The pain was immediate when she began to prod at his wound again. He tried not to flinch with little success. “Do you want to talk about that? Or, I don’t know-”

“Nope. There’s no way I want to talk about it. Not with you, not with anyone.”

“Cool.”

“Well this isn’t working,” she said, pointing at the wound. “Here, give me a minute.”

She came back a moment later holding some nefarious tool of unknown purpose.

“Don’t flinch,” she whispered as she jammed whatever it was down on his cut. It burned, scorched his skin and made the hairs on the back of his neck scream. 

“What is that?” He asked, trying to scramble away from her. She just held him in place.

“I’ve got to cauterize the wound.”

Several minutes later Diego was lying on the couch, nursing an ache in his head and his side. He tentatively tried to touch the bandage on his chest but found it hurt too much.

The radio, which had been buzzing quietly in the background, suddenly leaped to focus in Diego’s mind. It had said a name he recognized, one he’d likely recognize until past the day he died. One he recognized almost as well as his own name.

Klaus Hargreeves.

Diego scrambled on the couch to turn it up so he could catch the rest of the broadcast but the pain in his side kept him down. 

“Lila, can you turn it up?” He gestured wildly toward the radio, using the side of his body that didn’t send shooting pain through his nerves.

“What do you want?”

“Turn up the radio. Please.” He pointed to it again.

She walked off the couch and turned it up, but Diego was only able to catch the last couple seconds. Something about reports to the police.

Shit. 

“Why’d you want to listen to that anyway?” She asked, picking back up the magazine she’d found on Elliot’s desk.

“I thought I heard my brother’s name. Knew I heard his name.”

“Five was on the radio?”

“No, one of my other brothers. Klaus. He’s,” Diego paused, not sure how to phrase it, “interesting. I love him, but he’s a junkie. I’m just worried he’s gotten himself murdered or something.”

“Your family’s weird. And for all you know Klaus could be the one who committed the crime.”

Diego laughed. “I don’t think you know Klaus. At best he participates in petty crime. Nothing newsworthy.”

“Well I’m sure he’s fine anyway. You’d know if he were murdered or something, right?”

Would Diego know? He wasn’t sure.

But confidence breeds confidence. “I would know. You’re right.” He smiled at her, watched her face stay buried in the magazine. “Thanks Lila.”

“No problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Classes started this week so I’ve been busy, but I’m still going to try to update at least once every three days.
> 
> Hope y’all like this chapter! :)


	8. Just So Sad

Sissy turned off the radio, let the sound fizzle out and crackle away. She finished drying the last of the dishes and carried the stack over to the cabinets. 

“It’s just so sad what happened,” she said, walking over to Vanya on the sofa. Vanya felt the soft skin of her thigh, stretched over tight muscle, pressed against her on the sofa where Sissy sat just closer than she had to. It was a small couch, but their bodies didn’t need to be quite this flush with each other. Not that Vanya was complaining.

Together they watched Harlan listen to his records, his body stretched across the rug with his eyes glued to the spinning motion of his latest fascination. Around and around and around it went, always moving and always turning.

“It really is sad,” Vanya replied, shaking her head. It was just what you did when you heard about something like that on the radio. Yet something about that report, some name, some place, it seemed familiar. But she didn’t want that kind of place to be where she was from. So she didn’t tell Sissy about the spark of recognition. 

“But we should think about happier things,” Sissy said. She rested her hand on Vanya’s arm and the touch was electric. “Carl’s gonna be gone for a few hours, we could pack a picnic and go out to that little lake on the property. How does that sound?”

“It sounds good to me. What do you think, Harlan? Do you want to go for a picnic?” He clapped his hands and tapped the ground three times, which Vanya had learned meant he wanted to do something. Harlan continued to watch the record spinning.

The weather was nice outside, hot but dry. Vanya let the grass rub against her ankle and leave little burrs she'd have to pick out that night when she was doing the laundry. A bird soared overhead.

“You know, Sissy, I really hope I’m from a farm like this. I don’t think I could give this life up now that I’ve found it,” Vanya said. There was no reason for their hands to touch, not technically, but the picnic basket was heavy and it just made sense to have an extra person gripping the handle.

“You don’t have to give it up. Even if you’re from New York or a little town on the coast of New England, you can still live down here. Stay with me, stay with Harlan.”

“But what about Carl?”

“He can be persuaded,” Sissy said with a wink. And it didn’t matter whether that was true or not because Vanya let herself believe it. She had to keep this perfect moment in the hot dry heat.

They found a spot under a grove of trees and unpacked the basket, spreading the blue and white blanket out and flicking away the ants whenever they tried to crawl on their sandwiches and into the thermoses of lemonade.

As the day wore on the wind began to pick up. Sissy and Vanya stayed under the tree, sheltered from the worst of the biting sun. Harlan ran around on his own, sometimes dragging Vanya off to play hide-and-seek, sometimes bringing his mother stones with interesting textures.

It was nice. Vanya felt safe.

And then Harlan went missing. It should have been an instantaneous realization, the realization that he was gone, but it wasn’t. She and Sissy had been distracted talking about God knows what, and then they realized it had been a while since they’d seen him. Too long.

At first they tried to stay calm, to just call his name and see if he’d come running. He didn’t, and then they began to panic.

They decided to split up, and Vanya quickly realized her assigned area included the lake. But she couldn’t bear the thought of him in there. She couldn’t lose him, this boy she’d grown to care about so deeply in her time with Sissy.

And then she saw him in there, just a glimmer beneath the surface of the water. Harlan, unmistakably Harlan. Underwater, cold and wet and alone.

There was an energy inside her chest cavity, fueled by her fear. She needed to get Harlan but all she could focus on was the coo of an afternoon bird that roosted on the farms of Texas. It’s call was even, methodical, calculated.

Water began to rise up in a massive wall, towering feet above her. She felt light. It was as if she was watching herself glide across the ground yet not seeing anything at all.

In this state, half-mad and half-possessed, she dragged Harlan out of the water. His body was cold as the inside of an ice box. Touching him would start to hurt your hands if you kept them in him too long.

Vanya lay him down on the beach. His lips were still purple and the sand crusted his hair and the side of his face. She began to press down on his chest, deep and rhythmic. To the time of Staying Alive, just like Diego taught her once when they were adults and he felt bad she’d never gotten the practical training of her siblings. Though it had happened only once and that was all she remembered.

The memory hit her like a train. What was it? Who was Diego? What were these images flashing through her mind, the song she now hummed.”

She had no ide.

Vanya tried to focus on applying pressure to Harlan’s chest. She called for Sissy, to let her know that her son had been found. When CPR wasn’t working on it’s own she decided to try mouth to mouth. Diego, whoever that was, had said something about it when he was lecturing Vanya but he couldn’t remember it, whether the practice was good or bad.

It seemed to work because Harlan suddenly sat up, coughing water out of his mouth. The corners of his eyes were specked with tears and she couldn’t tell whether it was the dust or the sand or something more.

Sissy’s frantic footsteps sounded over the edge of the hill. When she was her son she rushed to his side, cradling him against her chest.

“Thank you Vanya, thank you so much,” she mumbled, “I don’t know what I’d do without Harlan, what I’d do without you.”

“You know I’d do anything for you or Harlan.”

And she meant it. She just wished she understood exactly what had happened that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am in fact still updating this fic, I just took an, uh, unannounced hiatus.
> 
> I’m trying to wrap up all the loose ends with my fics so that I can take a little break from fanfic for a few weeks and just have a mental health break, but I really hate having unfinished fics. Plus this has the most complex outline I’ve ever made and I’d hate to waste that


	9. Winning Personality

The liquor store attendant had been scared of him. That was fair. Klaus has been acting strange and erratic as he browsed the shelves, throwing in anything with a bright label and a high percentage of alcohol for volume, and the likely conclusion would have been that he was either high or violent. He wasn’t either, but he was depressed, and that wasn’t fun for anyone either.

Being around his family certainly wasn’t helping.

It wasn’t that Klaus didn’t like his family. He would go so far as to say he really liked a couple of his siblings, but that didn’t exactly extend to group meetings. They’d only been gathered in this creepy dentist’s office, tech store, conspiracy theory den for a half hour and Klaus could already feel a headache forming between his eyebrows. It was throbbing and low and thoroughly unpleasant.

Luther and Diego were at each other's throats, as usual, and Vanya looked confused. All in all it was a fairly standard day in the Hargreeves family. You could have placed them in 2019 and it would have felt correct.

But Klaus was older now, and he’d spent enough time alone with Ben and the rest of the world to know how to deal with squabbling toddlers.

“Will everyone please be quiet,” he said, clutching a half-empty flask in his hand. If Klaus didn’t have a tolerance for liquor he’d be slurring his words. “All of you are being immature. Now, Five, you said there was an Apocalypse. And don’t reply, just nod.” Five did as instructed. “Good. Now, logically, we know we cause this Apocalypse. It didn’t happen before and it happens now because we’re here. Were the only thing different about this timeframe. Now, based on past experience Vanya probably causes the Apocalypse.”

“Sorry about that,” she mumbled.

“We can talk about it later. It’s okay. But since we cause the Apocalypse the best thing to do on the day of would be to all meet up here and do absolutely nothing. Fair?” All of his siblings angrily mumbled their agreement. “Obviously we can’t just stay here until then. We all have the attention span of a nine year old on Adderall, myself included,” he took a swig from the flask, “so how about we get our affairs in order and meet back here on the day of the Apocalypse. Does anyone have any problems with that?”

“No. That plan actually makes sense,” Five said. “Since when are you not stupid?”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence Five. And for your information I’m now the second oldest in this group.”

“And for your information, Klaus, I’m not comfortable with you being capable. It’s too much of a change to the status quo.”

“If it helps I’m quite drunk right now,” he said, holding up the flask again.

“It actually does,” Five said, in a voice that told the world he couldn’t stand a single thing about it right now.

Klaus hated the person he was around his family. It wasn’t their fault, although it kind of was. But now he was away from them, scattered to the wind and probably all causing irreversible harm to everyone they ran into. Everyone they loved. He coughed around the cigarette he placed between his lips and Ben rolled his eyes.

“I thought you were going to quit smoking,” Ben said.

“Well I’m having a hard time right now, in case you couldn’t tell. And maybe I’m just trying to mimic those old actresses, the skinny ones from the really old movies. I’m pretty sure they all smoked.”

Ben sighed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“But you love me.”

“I do. Remind me again why I do that to myself?”

“Because we’re brothers and because you’re stuck with me.” Klaus let him be corporeal for a moment to sling his arm around Ben’s shoulder.

“Could have done that with the family,” he said with mock outrage, though they’d already talked about how Ben wanted to meet his siblings again one at a time. “And don’t be so pessimistic about our relationship.”

Klaus grinned. “What, you secretly love me for my winning personality?”

“You’re right, it is just the proximity.”

“That’s the Ben I know.” Klaus three the cigarette on the ground and smashed it beneath his boot. “It was weird in there, being the responsible one.”

“Maybe that’s how it always could have been if you were sober.”

“Nah, dad never would have let me do that. And don’t try to make me feel bad about my,” he nodded to the flask on his hip, “behavior.” Klaus pulled another cigarette out of the carton but decided against lighting it, instead leaning on the wall and running his fingers along the almost damp brick.

“Remember how me and Allison used to sneak off to smoke at night? Reggie used to yell at her, tell her she might damage her vocal chords. But he’d already given up on me by then.”

“I didn’t know you two used to do that,” Ben whispered.

“That’s probably for the best.”

“It’s just hard to pay attention when you don’t have to, you know?”

Klaus nodded and they stood there for a moment before Klaus spoke again. “I know what you’re thinking and I’m not going to go back.”

“You need to. You can’t just leave your cult after what happened.”

“It’s not a cult, it’s a community.”

“It’s a cult, Klaus, and you’re dodging what I said. It was irresponsible, what you did.”

Klaus rubbed his forehead and kicked a piece of trash as he began to walk out of the alleyway and back into the street. The sun hadn’t set yet but it was getting close, the light almost beginning to set over the horizon. “I made my decision, Ben, you can’t make me change my mind.”

“Just talk to them, make sure they’re okay.”

“I’m staying at Allison’s house tonight. We can talk about this in the morning.”

“Do the right thing, Klaus, just for once.”

“Don’t tell me what to do. I’m the one people can see. I make the decisions.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I choose to not explain why it took me so long to update


	10. I Hate to Ask

Raymond was a better cook than Klaus had expected. That was a bit sexist, he was aware of that, but Raymond had seemed like the kind of guy whose dad told him to avoid irons and ovens like the plague. But people were always full of surprises, and Klaus was happy to accept the roast chicken with open arms.

“Prophet! That smells marvelous. Do you think you could ask your sister to get me a chair?”

“Fuck! Keechie! You can’t keep doing that!” Klaus shouted and pushed himself away from the table, nearly cutting himself with the fork he clutched in his hand. Keechie was standing with a smile in the corner, as if that were a perfectly reasonable thing to do.

“You’ve just been ignoring me. And I know I shouldn’t question your choices, but I was getting rather lonely, and I wanted to remind you that I’m here and capable of providing wonderful company if you want it.”

“I can’t,” Klaus paused and ran his hands through his hair, “I really can’t deal with you right now. There’s a lot going on and this,” he gestured towards Keechie, “is just too much.”

Allison cleared her throat and subtly turned her head towards Raymond while she leaned down to take a bite of chicken. The man was in his chair, hand on his glass of wine and eyes concerned.

“Right, Raymond, my beloved brother, you can’t see Keechie.”

Raymond shook his head. “No.”

“This is awkward. I made it awkward, didn’t I?” Klaus shooed Keechie away and leaned back with mock sadness. “It’s just like that time Allison-“

“I’m going to stop you there,” Allison said. “Please retire whatever story you were about to tell until we’re both dead.” She turned to her husband. “Raymond, this chicken is delicious.”

“It is. Truly marvelous,” Ben agreed.

“But you didn’t eat any.”

“Well, if I had, I’m sure I would have loved it.”

“Is no one going to acknowledge,” Raymond pointed at Klaus and Ben, “any of this?” 

Klaus almost pitied him, but he’d given up on doing that a few years before Vietnam. Raymond opened his mouth like he was going to speak, but then he closed it and gave himself another portion of mashed potatoes. He seemed so unsure.

“I feel like I should explain,” Klaus said.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Allison curtly replied, “given, well, everything.”

“No, no, I’d appreciate an explanation. If you wouldn’t mind.” He smiled at Allison. His wife. Klaus was still getting used to the fact that one of his siblings was in a healthy, loving relationship. He never would have anticipated that for them.

Klaus waved his hand, tried to dispel the alcohol from the fuzzy edges of his mind, and brought Keechie forward in all his greasy glory.

“Does that help clear things up?”

Raymond sat there in silence for a moment. “Um,” he rubbed his eyes, “no. I don’t,” he took a breath, “I don’t.” Finally he was able to form a cohesive thought. “What?”

“Klaus, come on. Give him a break and just explain.”

“Explain what, Ben? Where do I even start? Like, ‘once upon a time in the future’?”

“You could start there.”

“Guys,” Allison said, “please let me handle this. He,” she pointed at the man pointedly eating potatoes and avoiding the conversation, “is my husband.”

Allison reached across the table and took her husbands’ hands. “I guess I should start in the beginning, a couple decades in the future.”

Half an hour later Klaus had cleaned his plate and Raymond seemed half on his way to understanding what was happening.

“So, let me just check, you all have superpowers?” Klaus, Ben, and Allison nodded. Keechie did as well and Klaus pretended to not see him. Rude spirits get banished to the unacknowledgement corner.

“Yes,” Allison said, “all of my brothers and sisters have powers.”

“Like Superman or Captain America?”

“Like Superman or Captain America.”

“And you,” he pointed at Klaus, “you can summon the dead. Which, by the way, sounds awful.”

“Oh I know.” Klaus took a sip of wine.

“And you,” Raymond pointed at Ben, “have a tentacle monster in your stomach. Which, once again, sounds awful.”

“Really it’s more of a portal, but essentially yes”

“And you can control people with your voice.” Allison nodded. “Remind me again why you can’t make all the white people in this city treat us half decently?”

“I have to make them legitimately change their minds. That’s the only way social progress can begin in any meaningful way.”

“Uh-Huh. But you couldn’t try it once or twice?”

“Well, you seem to be taking this pretty well. And the food’s getting cold, I should start wrapping this up so it doesn’t spoil.” Allison got up from the table and started rummaging through the kitchen cabinet for foil.

“Here, let me get it.” Raymond stood up and walked towards Allison. “After what you said I feel like I need to give you more time with your brother. The, um,”

“You can say that I’m dead,” Ben mumbled.

“The dead one. You should go talk to him. Me and your other brother will clean everything up here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you Ray.” She gave him a peck on the cheek before she and Ben got up and began to walk into the living room, already stumbling into deep conversation.

“Can you bring me the plates?” Raymond asked.

“Are you talking to me?” Klaus pointed to himself.

“Who else would I be talking to?”

“Fair.” Klaus began to collect all the plates, heaping them into a pile that seemed seconds from collapsing. “You know, you’re talking this surprising well. Much better than her first husband, that absolute dick.” 

Raymond shrugged. “I’m sure the shock will kick in soon. In a strange way I’m proud that Allison trusted me enough to tell me.”

“And you believe us?”

“I mean, you’ve summoned a couple ghosts in front of me. I either have to believe you or I have to believe that I’m going crazy. I like the first option better.”

“That’s justified,” Klaus said with a laugh. “Although if someone told me the same thing I would absolutely believe I was hallucinating. It’s very in character for me.” Raymond handed him a towel and he began to dry the dishes.

They stood like that a moment, in front of the kitchen sink, the tinny sound of a record stumbling in from the living room. 

“I hate to ask, because this evening’s gone much better than it had any right to, but I’d kick myself if I didn’t.” Raymond seemed awkward as he handed a chipped yellow plate to Klaus.

“Go ahead, rip off the waxing strip. So much better than melted caramel, by the way. I learned that the hard way.” He shuddered.

“Are you the leader of the cult? The one where that guy shot himself?”

Klaus stopped what he was doing, the air suddenly cold. He could feel his pulse in his wrists and the Arctic Texas heat.

“Oh, Prophet, I hope I haven’t hurt your reputation. That was the last thing I meant to do. I only wanted you to be able to show the world your incredible gifts.”

“What would you say if it was me? Honestly, Raymond, what would you say?”

“I don’t know, Klaus.”

“Neither do I. I don’t know any of it, the answers to any of it. Okay? Can we just leave it at that?”

“I don’t think I can, Klaus, but we can save it for the morning. But you didn’t do it, right? You didn’t kill him?”

“No. No, of course not. But maybe I should have done more to stop it. You know, sometimes I worry that it was my fault. But God! I can’t have this conversation as sober as I am.”

“We can talk about it in the morning?”

“Okay, fuck, yeah, okay. And there’s got to be liquor. Absinthe maybe, that always does the trick.

“We’ll talk about it in the morning. I’m going to go make sure Allison and Ben are doing okay.”

Klaus nodded and kept drying the dishes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please pretend I’ve been updating this fic regularly

**Author's Note:**

> I've said it before, I'll say it again: Season Two was enjoyable but not terribly well done in terms of Allison and Klaus's characters. The solution? Fanfiction.
> 
> I hope y'all like it!


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